


You Are The Wilderness

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood Fusion, Bad Puns, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Girl Who Cried Wolf AU, Oral Sex, Smut, Three Little Pigs AU, Wolf Puns, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their idea of a good time wasn’t to be stuck in an enchanted spell-book. </p><p>The Witch’s Grimoire was the last place they expected to end up in when Lord Death sent them on a group mission, and between the pig costumes, wandering into the woods with no sense of direction, being cast as the grandmother while being THE Death Scythe, and the fluffy wolf ears, Azusa, Marie, Spirit and Stein find themselves grumbling as they work their way through each story in hopes of coming out of it with some dignity still intact. </p><p>But if Spirit made another wolf joke Stein was going to dissect him, again: story-line be damned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Huff and I'll Puff

They were silent as a grave as they stood in front of Death in the Death Room. Stein was casually smoking as Marie was waving the air away, her singular eye glaring at her partner while Spirit was casually texting whichever Tinder date he had managed to get matched with. Azusa was sighing, staring at the empty space where their boss was supposed to be.

 

How was he going to call them into the Death Room for a meeting and yet not show up?

 

They all knew what it was about, of course. The disappearances had spread like wildfire through the school. From what they could make out, multiple students had tried, on multiple occasions, to go on what appeared to be a simple mission to locate a book in some cavern. It was rife with negative energy, but certainly nothing that would be considered particularly dangerous.

 

After the first group didn’t show up, a second was sent out to see what had happened to them, since all lines of communication had been cut. But when that group didn’t come back, either, everyone got up in arms about where they went.

 

So, there they were. The Calvary.

 

They were a ragtag group. If Sid weren’t already out on a separate mission, they’d at least have another Meister to accompany them, but it seemed as though three weapons and the DWMA’s best Meister were just going to have to be enough. Azusa wouldn’t have even come with them if it weren’t for her clairvoyance, and two people who could locate others was always more favorable than one.

 

Five minutes, another cigarette, and a rejection via Tinder later, Death finally bounced his way into the room and spotted his Death Scythes and Stein already waiting for him.

 

“Hiya hello,” he started, to which Azusa only adjusted her glasses, the light glinting off of them.

 

“It’s particularly rude to call a meeting and be late to it,” she said, bluntly, and Death could feel the sweat collecting on his massive palms under his mittens.

 

She was always so fast to cast her observations.

 

“Ah, well. . .” he stalled, fidgeting. “I was just getting all the paperwork together!”

 

“Paperwork?” Spirit asked from behind Azusa.

 

“The wills,” Death said, cheerfully, and Spirit blinked at him, chuckling nervously.

 

“Haha, good one.”

 

Well. No one really appreciated quality comedy anymore, though Stein certainly looked at least slightly amused. The solidarity was overwhelming.

 

“Yes, well. By now I presume you’ve heard of the disappearances?”

 

“Four Meister-Weapon pairs went missing,” Azusa filled in, as though wracking off well memorized information.

 

Death nodded. “Yes. Eight people have gone to retrieve an artifact from a magically-concentrated zone. It was presumed harmless.”

 

“Have we information on the opposite, then?” Stein asked, knowing that there had to be in order to pull some of the strongest people in the DWMA from their jobs.

 

“We have information of a witch,” Death said, and his voice was chilling when he spat the final word.

 

“What kind of witch?” Marie asked, her voice all business.

 

“A wolf witch. Luna.”

 

“Convenient,” Spirit deadpanned.

 

“It seems the book belongs to her,” Death said.

 

“And that’s why the students are missing,” Spirit finished for him, something sad in his belly at the thought. The somber mood in the room only got darker when Death nodded.

 

“You’re to go immediately. There is still a chance the children are alive.”

 

“You aren’t certain?” Azusa asked, staring at her boss.

 

“She’s skewed my transmission,” Death said, gesturing toward his mirror. “Just static. Like the inside of Black*Star’s head.”

 

“Hear hear,” Stein commented, looking like he was ready to lift a drink at the proclaiming, only to have Marie gently elbow him in the side, shaking her head.

 

“We’ll bring them back,” she promised, turning on her heel and leading everyone out, even as Stein rubbed his now sore side, muttering.

* * *

 

Finding the witch wasn’t difficult. It seemed as though she had absolutely no sense of subtlety, what with all the wolfsbane blooming everywhere and the crumbling werewolf statues were pretty much a dead giveaway, too.

 

No, finding her certainly wasn’t the problem.

 

The problem was fighting her.

 

Stein ducked under the swiping paws of the woman’s familiar as she cackled off to the side. Spirit was in one hand with Marie in the other and Stein had been fighting the damn wolf for well over ten minutes, being worn ragged. Frustrated, Stein swung Marie down to the ground, forcing the earth to rumble beneath their feet while he spun on a dime and swiped at the wolf with Spirit, only to have the creature run back, trying to evade.

 

In the background, Azusa had partially transformed, trying to land a hit from more far range and the witch was avoiding her at every turn.

 

“My! And you’re supposed to be the DWMA’s best? The children put up a greater fight!” the witch cackled, and when her yellow eyes zoned in on Azusa, she seemed to smile flirtatiously. “I might hold onto _you_ , though. You certainly give me **paws** for thought!” the woman punned, and Azusa groaned as she tried to lock another hit on the woman.

 

The jokes were practically unbearable.

 

“Could you guys hurry up?” Azusa asked, irritable as the witchy woman sidestepped another of the soul blasts, her smile only widening.

 

“Oh, come now! No need to make such a howl about it!”

 

“That one wasn’t even remotely good,” Azusa snarked, still sniping.

 

The instant the words left her mouth, there was an actual howl in the air and Azusa’s eyes widened as she snapped her gaze over to where Stein was standing, Marie’s weapon form covered in blood, and the witch’s familiar practically eviscerated. Stein had crimson flecked over his face and when he turned around, some of it dripped down and onto his lips.

 

When he grinned, his teeth were red.

 

The atmosphere changed immediately, something sparking in the air as the witch’s thick, dark, curly hair lifted from her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, focused on the animal that was as much a part of her as her arms were.

 

The keen she let out was feral, and she moved with a speed none of them could have possibly imagined, her nails sharp and extended as she caught Stein on the arm, slamming him clean off his feet and into the walls of the cavern they had located her in.

 

She was snarling, raising her hand to swipe across his face before she shrieked in pain when Azusa finally managed to land a hit.

 

“Stop fucking around, Stein! Get the hell up!” Azusa said, firing another blast as Stein tried to slam Marie against the witch’s ribcage.

 

The witch yowled at the wavelength, but she immediately spun her arm out, slamming Stein’s arm against the rock and forcing him to let go of Marie. From her weapon form, she called out his name, and his fingers twitched, desperate to try to grasp her.

 

The witch’s fingers had started to elongate, her face lengthening until it almost seemed as though she had a snout, and when she opened her mouth, it was as though she had grown more teeth than before, all of them sharp. She slammed Marie away as the woman tried to transform back to human, sending her flying, and Azusa immediately gasped, running off to try to catch her friend as Marie’s transformation into human finally went through.

 

The witch screeched in Stein’s face, her breath bloody. Stein felt disoriented from being slammed against the wall, his head spinning, but Spirit sent a jolt of his wavelength through his Meister, shocking Stein somewhat to action as the man fired up his Soul Menace and caught the witch against her stomach just as she tried to snap her teeth around his throat, throwing her several feet back and to the altar where the book was.

 

Stein stumbled to his feet, shaking his head and adjusting his hold on Spirit.

 

“Marie?” he called out, the slightest bit of panic coming into his voice.

 

“I’m fine!” she replied, but her voice sounded pained, and he risked the few precious seconds it took to look behind him and see what state she was in. Running toward him, it seemed as though she was favoring her left leg more than the right, half supported by Azusa, and he grimaced at the fact that he allowed his partner to get hurt.

 

He turned back around, steeling himself and bringing Spirit into a defensive stance in front of him, rushing at the witch before she could find her footing again.

 

They didn’t expect for her to scream, the sound so loud and grating in their ears that Stein thinks he went deaf, but he continued running forward, not even slowing when she grasped hold of her book in a sloppy hold, bringing it to her chest and roaring out an incantation.

 

He couldn’t turn fast enough when she opened the pages, and they flipped over one another so fast, the wind picked up to compensate.

 

The wind picked up too much.

 

“Stein!” Marie screamed, her arm stretching in front of her as she broke from Azusa’s hold, rushing to him just as he lost his foothold on the earth, the book sucking him in along with Spirit.

 

When Marie reached out to grab him, his lab-coat slipped from between her fingers as she, too, found herself being thrown into the abyss.

 

Azusa’s voice rung in her ears, her hand grasping at her wrist, but she didn’t have enough leverage.

 

The laughter engulfed her.

* * *

 

_“And I’m hungry like the wolf, strut on a line. It’s discord and rhyme.”_

* * *

 

When he woke up, he entire side felt like a mass of tenderized meat: bruised and soft. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, mostly because they weren’t on his face, and without them, he had a particularly hard time seeing even four feet in front of him. Groaning, he squinted, groping around for the damn thing. He’d already gone through six pairs in the past two months and he really didn’t want to have to order yet another pair, all while arguing that he was a doctor. He knew his own prescription and he didn’t have to go to a damn optometrist when he was a certified surgeon.

 

And then Marie would drag him to that joke of a doctor anyway. Really, he was screwed from the very beginning if he lost them.

 

That was why, when his fingers skimmed over the wire frame of his spectacles, he sighed through his nose in mild relief before he put them on his face, finally able to survey his surroundings. For a moment, his brows came together, having expected something more akin to the cobblestones of Death City, the brickwork of the world he was used to.

 

Instead, all he could see around him was tall, somewhat yellowed grass, dark Earth, the dirt no doubt transferred onto his labcoat, and massive trees that shaded the ground for what seemed like miles.

 

It was a far cry from the sand he was accustomed to, the training grounds he went to barren and dry, overlooking dunes and dust. He’d been all over the world but Death City was distinct and he’d be able to pinpoint almost every millimeter of the city. From the look of things, it seemed he was, as the saying went, not in Kansas, anymore. Or, at least, not in Nevada.

 

For a moment, his head still felt gooey, as though he couldn’t really recall what was going on. Something was jumbled in his brain, the jarring nature of his surroundings mixing in with what felt like some sort of head wound likely causing his confusion. He rolled, propping himself on an elbow and reaching to turn his screw a few times, each click weighing heavily and bringing more clarity.

 

He must have taken a harder hit than he originally believed, because everything in his skull felt like it was decimated worse than his desk after Marie tried to marry it. Regardless, after the third click, his bolt settled and he blinked a few times, shifting his balance so that he was holding himself up on his palms. As he got up, he finally started to remember snippets of the witch’s fight, Spirit’s weight as a Scythe having been heavy and welcoming, familiar.

 

Though, that weight was a far cry from comfortable when he ended up getting knocked into him. He’d have to suggest a diet, really. Spirit was a grown man, of course, but he could always look to be more trim in his line of work.

 

But, once he thought of his friend, he couldn’t help but realize that he was alone in the wide space, no Spirit. And while that fact in of itself was somewhat of a relief, since his former partner would undoubtedly be somewhat ridiculous in his comments of them being wherever they were, Azusa and Marie were missing, as well.

 

He supposed that meant it was his and Azusa’s jobs to find one another. As the only two with any sort of sight-based advantage, his soul perception and Azusa’s clairvoyance, they were obligated to make sure all persons of the group were accounted for and at least semi-breathing.

 

Which meant he didn’t really have the time to keep himself in a plank, hovering over the dirt in his attempts to command his body into obeying him, despite the ache in his entire side.

 

Stein coughed, settling backward into a squat before he managed to stand up, his legs feeling weak. He sighed through his nose once more, patting at the pockets of his lab-coat before he threw his hands in, groping around for his ever-present pack of cigarettes and matches. The relief that flared up over the fact that he was not going to be without nicotine for the entire ordeal was almost palpable, and when he turned on his soul perception to check in the immediate area, he could at least take comfort in the fact that there wasn’t a single living being four miles in either direction to give him dirty looks for smoking. Wobbling slightly, he tapped out a cigarette and dangled it in his mouth, striking a match and lighting the cancer stick immediately, inhaling in the smoke immediately. Blowing it out of his nose, he threw the packs back into his slightly dirty pockets, taking note of the fact that there wasn’t a breeze to fight the flame.

 

Strange. There weren’t too many places that felt so. . .still.

 

Heaving a sigh, he flared his Soul Perception higher, dialing it up in notches so he could locate some other living creature, preferably in general Marie, Spirit, or Azusa format. As he did so, he took the time to run a hand through his hair, dislodging dried grass from the prematurely gray locks.

 

With furrowed brows, he took a single step forward when he felt the flicker of a soul, moving in the general direction he located it from, but he found himself tumbling immediately. Stein caught himself on his forearms, hard, so badly that his shoulder felt as though it was jolted out of the socket. His world spun, glasses sliding down his nose until they fell down to the earth once more. Groaning, he closed his eyes for a moment before he brought himself upright once more, stooping uncomfortably so he could get his glasses, cleaning them off with the bottom of his shirt.

 

He didn’t think he’d have such poor balance. That was unusual for him. As he looked at the ground for whatever it could have been that made him stumble, he blinked behind his glasses, his head feeling as though something were pounding inside of it. He felt off kilter, dizzy, and he had the profound need to click his bolt back once more for the sake of giving some small comfort to the developing, or rather, developed, migraine he was suffering from so suddenly.

 

It seemed as though one massive hit his body could take without issue. Two? Two turned into anatomical mutiny, his very feet betraying him in the basic motions of moving forward. He grit his teeth as he brought his touch back to his bolt, clicking back a few more times and welcoming the blissful disconnect that it brought to him, that clearing of his thoughts. This time, he took both hands to his hair, bringing the shaggy bangs off his forehead.

 

He froze entirely when his wrists brushed over something. It didn’t feel like hair, but he. . .felt it. Felt it not only on his wrists, but in that way that you feel a touch against the side of a cheek.

 

It felt soft, and he had the distinct feeling of whatever it was twitching, both against his wrists and because it was part of his body, and with a confusion that baffled him, he rubbed against what he quickly realized was an ear, his ear, with his thumb and forefinger, observing the high contrast it had to his usual set.

 

When he confirmed what it was, a set of ears that almost seemed to hop alert at his self-awareness and springing to life by taking in every possible sound in the general vicinity, not that there was much, he took in a deep breath. There were some things in life he had no need to experience, but already a hypothesis was forming as he pieced together his newfound ears with what he could recall of the witch’s fight.

 

He knew he had to turn around and confirm what he was dreading, but he allowed himself a brief moment of hesitation before he twisted his side and looked behind himself, taking in what was making him so unbalanced when he tried to walk.

 

He was a bipedal mammal. He was evolved to exist and function without a tail.

 

Cringing, he closed his eyes and turned forward once more, attempting to process the fact that he suddenly had appendages he’d believed he’d never be in possession of. The witch, no doubt. He supposed they, or at least he, was in the grimoire. Spreading his stance to compensate for his newfound information, he extended his Soul Perception as far as it would go until he finally hit up against other souls in the area.

 

But they were faint, even when he was working at full blast. He at least had the comfort of knowing they were, luckily, all in one general area.

 

He took a slow step forward, nearly upsetting his balance and eating dirt once more at the action.

 

It was going to be a long walk.

* * *

 

Marie was going to slaughter Spirit. He had no room to laugh at her in the state he was in, something he hadn’t quite realized as he fell to his back, clutching his belly and roaring over the fact that, yes, Marie’s usual outfit of heavy woolen black and gold clothing was, magically, replaced by the all too embarrassing pig’s outfit all of them were currently in.

 

At the very least, she could breathe a little easier knowing that they hadn’t been sucked into their grave when they were thrown into the witch’s book. It depended on who she was asking, but she at least felt alive, and so she counted that as proof enough, in her book. Regardless, everyone seemed relatively unharmed, save for a few rather nasty bruises, and a rather sour attitude. Ridiculous get-ups or no, unknowing of what to do or where to go, they could at least take comfort in the fact that all their major organs were working.

 

And speaking of major organs, she could account for Spirit and Azusa, but Stein was missing, a fact that made her particularly nervous regardless of the fact that she knew he could take care of himself perfectly well.

 

But she’d seen the horror movies. The ones who were separated from the group were usually in the most danger.

 

Azusa’s brow twitched from her spot next to Marie as the blonde was contemplating the fate of her partner. It seemed as though the crossbow wasn’t particularly fond of the fact that Spirit took such great amusement in her costume.

 

“We are all in the same outfit, Albarn,” she informed, curtly, but Spirit was too busy looking at the way the bright pink hoodie came over Azusa’s head, two ears made of fabric arranged in a lopsided fashion.

 

Marie sat up, clutching the grass in her fists before she blinked tiredly, looking over at her close friend. “Azusa?” she started, biting her lip.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Is there any way you could locate Stein?”

 

Azusa blinked, as though realizing that the particularly noticeable fourth party of their group was missing. In fairness, they were all eccentric characters, but it was hard for her to believe that she didn’t remember the practical giant with a bolt running clean through his skull. Azusa clicked her tongue, adjusting her glasses so that they caught a glare simply for Spirit’s sake before she took them off, settling them neatly in her lap.

 

Yet, when she tried to activate her clairvoyance, it felt like her brain was being split open, and she immediately winced, throwing her arms out to grasp onto something and finding Marie’s shoulder. The other woman was concerned immediately.

 

“Azusa!” she called, clutching her close friend as the crossbow nearly fell over. Spirit’s laughter stopped abruptly, staring at the scene before he struggled upward, making his way toward the two.

 

“Committee?”

 

She only made an annoyed noise at the back of her throat, keeping her eyes squished closed as Marie fretted over her.

 

“Azusa? What happened?”

 

It took a few moments for Azusa to muster up enough strength to open her eyes, and when she did, the minimal light seemed to sear through her, making her squint immediately. With shaking hands, she groped around her lap until she found her glasses, bringing them back to her face. When Spirit noticed how badly her fingers were trembling, he sobered immediately, keen eyes taking in his surroundings. His leotard rode up in rather uncomfortable areas as he shifted around to take noticed of how menacing the small space they woke up in truly was. Around them, the trees seemed to loom tall and ominous, and he realized with a start just how dark it was in the shade they provided.

 

“Azusa? Do you want me to try my wavelength?” Marie asked, her gentle voice chiming out.

 

The ringing in Azusa’s ears diminished slightly at her voice, which called out softly so as not to irritate any damage that had already been caused.

 

“I don’t know if you can,” Azusa answered, truthfully. After being knocked off from her clairvoyance, she could feel the way her soul was almost confined, a slight squeezing in her chest that reminded her of when she was a child, when she didn’t know how to control her transformation, let alone her more advanced techniques.

 

She felt like before she consumed a witch’s soul. Her status as a Death Scythe seemed as though it were a glove that did not fit, anymore.

 

“What do you mean?” Marie asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

 

“I-I can’t transform,“ Azusa started, finally managing to turn her head and look at the horrified expression on Marie’s face. “My soul is blocked,” she admitted, and Marie blinked at her owlishly. It was only at Spirit’s confused, somewhat distressed sound that’s he could turn away from Azusa, instead focusing on Spirit’s back as he looked over the trees. Finally, she alternated between the two.

 

“What?” she asked, panic welling up inside of her. “How would you know? You didn’t try,” she urged, already feeling as though her heart was beating double-time, but when she focused, she could feel the same blockage in her soul, as though something had built a brick wall in front of it, keeping it from expanding.

 

“Uh, guys? Worse news,” Spirit called out, and Marie’s mouth popped open. There was barely anything that could be worse than being a weapon who couldn’t transform, especially if the information came suddenly and without warning.

 

Marie’s forehead wrinkled as she looked at Death Scythe, her singular eye crinkled in confusion.

 

“Worse?” Marie asked. And when Spirit stepped to the side, Marie and Azusa were finally able to make out the words that had been carved into the bark.

 

Three Little Pigs, each letter careful, meticulous, and almost eerie in how they slanted. The words splashed over four separate trees, jagged slashes in the bark, some of them oozing tree sap so thickly, the scent of sugar was in the air.

 

“We’re in a fairy tale.”  


No sooner had the words been spoken did the breeze pick up, shaking the leaves in the trees and forcing the branches to sway. And with them came the soft cackle, growing louder and louder as the rustling got louder. Marie’s eyebrows twitched together and she stood up, clenching her fists and settling in front of Azusa, who still seemed woozy.

 

She might not be able to transform, but she’d been told that she had a hell of a swing, and there was something in her intuition that was screaming that danger was approaching.

 

But nothing came.

 

Instead, only the soft, mocking voice of the witch floated on the breeze.

 

_“Work through the tales and you shall find_  
the life you all have left behind.  
But if you find yourselves to fail  
this shall become a different tale,  
in which you stay inside the pages  
for now, forever, and through the ages.”

 

“Did she just fucking rhyme at us?” Spirit asked, a dumbfounded expression imprinted upon his face, only to be spoken over by Marie.

 

“What does she mean ‘stay inside the pages’? Are we going to be trapped here?”

 

“We got sucked into the grimoire, remember?” Azusa reminded, smoothing down her hair and standing up on her wobbling legs. Her knees almost buckled and her head felt like it was swimming, so she brought her hand out to one of the nearby trees, steadying herself.

 

At that, Spirit groaned. “So we have to act out the Three Little Pigs? Oh Death, it’s middle school all over again!”

 

“Oh, please. As if you were anything but sapling number two in any play,” Marie said, rolling her eye and running a hand through her hair.

 

Spirit made an offended noise in the back of his throat, only to be ignored. Azusa shook her head, adjusting her glasses and finally finding some sort of clarity, bringing herself upright.

 

“He’s right, however. We have to act out the story.”

 

“That’s sick,” Marie commented, biting her lip.

 

“And cruel,” Spirit added.

 

“And unusual,” Marie tacked on.

 

Azusa pushed her glasses up so she could pinch the bridge of her nose.

* * *

 

“Wait, why do I have to build my house out of straw?” Spirit asked, pouting as he carried another ball of straw over to the area he’d designated as his own. It hadn’t taken much wandering to locate the massive pile of supplies that had been left for them, and they assumed they were going to have to build out the shelters by hand.

 

However, none of them wanted to remain in the woods, where the shade seemed to shift every once and a while. They had stumbled around for a few minutes before Azusa had come upon a small clearing they’d be able to utilize. None of it was ideal, of course, but it was better than setting up camp in spook-central.

 

“Because in the story, the stupidest pig-“ Azusa began, shuffling the wheelbarrow around so she could avoid a few rocks in the path.

 

“Yeah, that’s my point, I’m not the stupidest pig-“ Spirit broke in, dropping the bundle so he could complain more easily.

 

“Just build the house, Spirit,” Azusa said, her glasses glinting while she adjusted the rope that she kept attached to Marie so the woman wouldn’t get lost. From about ten feet behind them, the blonde dragged the passive pile of logs, keeping her singular eye trained on her best friend bickering with Death Scythe.

 

Times like those were when she really wished she had Soul Perception.

 

At least she landed with Spirit and Azusa, that much was a blessing. Still, Stein was now without a weapon and, more importantly, he was off, floating somewhere in the abyss of the book and they had to trust him to find them. It was something she knew he could do, but wished he did just a tad bit faster. If he didn’t show up within a day or two, she didn’t know what they were going to do.

 

Sighing, she tightened her grip on the rope and continued walking forward.

* * *

 

Stein managed to piece together enough to know that he was in some sick, twisted version of his own personal hell. Mostly because, whilst using Soul Perception, he managed to locate Spirit’s soul, and that already informed him that whatever he was going through was unpleasant.

 

And considering he’d spent the past few hours trying to get accustomed to walking with a tail and being hyper-sensitive to every damn sound in the general vicinity, he’s more inclined to believe he was being punished for some previous misdeed of his. Punished rather harshly, on top of it all.

 

He doesn’t blame whoever decided to bestow that particular brand of torture: he’d done some fucked up things in the past. Of course, he does wish whichever deity took control of his life was a tad more merciful.

 

Regardless, when he finally managed to get to the clearing where the three familiar souls were, he spotted the barely cobbled together houses immediately.

 

Spirit would be the one to make a house out of straw. The construction of it was shoddy at best, tufts of poorly tied down hay sticking out haphazardly. Stein brought his hand to the pocket of his pants, having realized he had cigarettes and some matches a few hours back after cataloguing himself more thoroughly.

 

Truly merciful, perhaps not, but at least whatever he had done to land himself in the current position was kind enough to humor his nicotine addiction. He brought the cigarette to his lips, lighting it carelessly and tossing the still lit match in the general vicinity of Spirit’s home. It caught the very edges, but was put out before any real damage could have been made.

 

Good enough for him: he needed a few more minutes to look over his options. While he smoked, he squinted his eyes behind his glasses, noting that Azusa was in the far more meticulously arranged brick house, complete with a chimney. Of course Queen of the Committee Chairman would be the one to go above and beyond the call of duty. He knows Marie would be with her, sharing the place, if it weren’t for the way the tale was supposed to go.

 

He was a little hazy on the details, if he were honest, but he did remember that the wolf destroyed the first two houses. However, considering the last thing he was in the mood for was facing Azusa at some ungodly time of night, and also engaging in any sort of conversation with Spirit, he was just going to have to take his own approach to the matter.

 

 Having half-finished his cigarette, Stein simply tossed it the same way he did with the match, though the cherry didn’t go out, and he watched as it caught on some of the hay, making it smoke. Shrugging, he only strolled to the poor excuse for a log cabin, knocking on it until Marie’s soul started moving forward.

 

Her single, amber eye peeped through the all-too-obvious hole she made in the door as some means of identifying visitors.

 

He took it that not everyone was as courteous as he, though, common decency tended to be something he avoided almost in the strictest senses for near everyone else. When he heard her gasp, he pushed on the unlocked door, and the small scrape of the doorstop over the dirt was all that greeted him when he hunched to fit into the tiny frame. Marie’s mouth was gaped open, though she did move aside, eye trained on his ears.

 

They twitched.

 

“Oh my Death, you’re the wolf.”

 

He said nothing while she burst into giggles, a delicate hand coming to her stomach as she laughed, biting down on her lip.

 

“You, ah, you didn’t-,” a snort of the most ladylike proportions, “-you didn’t say the line.”

 

He waited until her chuckles died down slightly, closing the door with his foot as the scent of burning hay started to waft through.

 

“I’m a smoker, Marie. I huff and puff enough, as is.”

 

The laughter increased, once more, Marie’s grin stretching wide before she finally caught hint of the smell. Her brows furrowed.

 

“What? Did you bring villagers with pitchforks?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“Then what did you do?” she asked, trying to keep her lips from twitching.

 

“Noth-“

 

He was cut off by a slight, high pitched screech that both of them could identify as Spirit’s almost immediately. Stein blinked once, twice, and then moseyed over to where Marie had a makeshift mattress, mostly just a bundle of hay wrapped in some spare cloth. He plopped down, avoiding his side.

 

Marie looked over at him before she peeped outside, spotting Spirit frantically throwing water on his failed attempt at shelter: more a sad shed that was falling apart rather than lodging. She, too, blinked in reaction before slowly closing her door and stepping to her bed.

 

It was too damn late in the night to deal with _that_.

* * *

 

Marie was going to be a good friend and not bring up the fact that Azusa and Spirit were walking out of the haphazardly cobbled together brick house the younger woman managed to scrape together yesterday looking slightly disheveled. Mostly, she was going to commit to this particular good deed because she wasn’t really one to talk. The pink hoodie could only cover so much of her tousled hair, and she was relatively certain that if the pig-outfit wasn’t all she had to wear, she would have lost or ripped something the night prior.

 

Less importantly, she did feel slightly guilty for the fact that her boyfriend was the one to blame for the commotion, something everyone realized the night prior after Spirit found the cigarettes as well as a barred door to Marie’s log cabin. Stein had told him to “Fuck off to Azusa,” if she remembered correctly, so she figured her kindness at least extended to silence.

 

Nonetheless, she was sitting on a bale of forgotten, slightly charred hay, her legs crossed with Stein leaning against the bundle. He was yawning and grumbling about how ungodly the morning was, having been informed that to get out of the book, the only plausible reasoning would be to go through the tales until the end. He had taken in this information grudgingly when they both looked up, spotting Spirit’s grin widening more and more. Stein steeled himself for some sort of comment on the new additions to his person (he was getting rather used to the tail, though it certainly wasn’t meant for bipedal mammals). As Spirit and Azusa approached them, Marie knew in her heart of hearts what was about to happen, and the second he stepped into proper earshot, she groaned, the annoyance already bubbling up inside of her.

 

“Don’t say it, Spirit,” she warned, but Spirit’s lips were twitching, his eyes trained on Stein.

 

“You porked her,” Spirit proclaimed.

 

“Well, there that is,” Azusa said, rolling her eyes. It was too early in the morning, if it could truly be morning in a witch’s enchanted spell, who knew how time passed, for any of Spirit’s ridiculous jokes. Besides which, having spent an entire night with him, albeit with him on the floor and her on her mattress, made her tolerance even lower than before.

 

“You need to be euthanized,” Stein informed, not missing a beat to inform his previous partner.

 

“Spirit, damnit!” Marie called, hopping off the bundle and wailing the man in the gut, her mouth squished in annoyance. The fact that he’d put up two hands, holding the palms out in the universal notion for peace, was utterly and absolutely ignored. Instead, his hands found their way on his abdomen as he promptly bent double while Marie huffed, pushing him before she turned around and folded her arms.

 

“You’re the one who should have been the wolf: you always act like a dog anyway!” Marie proclaimed, huffy.

 

“That _is_ true. Spirit is the one who has more canine traits,” Asuza agreed, partly to placate her friend, though also because she’d genuinely made the connection.

 

“Including poor dental health,” Stein added.

 

“H-hey-“ Spirit started, straightening up and wincing when he felt how bruised he was going to be, later.

 

“And he humps anything that moves. And most things that don’t,” Marie continued, looking over her shoulder.

 

“That’s not-“

 

“Temperamental. He clearly didn’t go to obedience school,” Azusa commented, shifting her glasses.

 

“Sto-“

 

“He had worms-“

 

“Alright! Alright!” Spirit cut in, effectively interrupting Stein who had the creepiest grin on his face. “Death, you never let up.”

 

Marie turned around fully, settling between Azusa and Stein, still glaring in a way that made it seem as though her singular eye was practically drilling through Spirit. Stein looked more than a little proud and certainly amused, and Azusa merely took off her glasses and cleaned the lenses, settling them back on her face when there wasn’t a single speck left on them.

 

“Why are we still here, anyway?” Marie asked, looking around. “I thought we’d have to go through and then we can be released. How are we supposed to move on to the next story?”

 

“Technically,” Azusa cut in, “we haven’t completed this one.”

 

Two pairs of eyes plus Marie’s singular looked over at Stein, Marie opening her mouth to remind him that he hadn’t said his line, but he only zeroed in on the shoddy log-cabin he’d spent the night in. Of all the options to complete the fairy tale, most of them seemed unpleasant: either he ended up Death by Azusa’s hand, of all people, or he’d have to humiliate himself. He supposed he could at least do the lesser of the evils first, hoping it would work just as well. Slowly, moving as though to give Marie ample opportunity to realize that her work would come tumbling down, he found his way to the side of the shack and leaned back.

 

It would have been more impressive had he not put so much effort into the kick, but when the dust settled, revealing a pile of sticks and rubble, it had the same effect.

 

Marie’s mouth dropped open. She knew her home had to be demolished, since that’s what happened in the story, but she didn’t even have the opportunity to say goodbye.

 

“. . .that’s one way to do it,” Spirit started and Azusa was about to point out that it wasn’t how the story ended, but she was cut off by Marie’s whine.

 

Her lip was jutting out, pouting at the fact that all her hard work had gone to crumble. She’d been getting attached to the place: she could almost envision having a life in the dismal excuse for a house. It was at least picturesque, fitting beautifully next to the charred hole that Spirit ended up with, but it was still ruined.

 

In her mourning, head bowed, she couldn’t help but notice that the ground looked to be shimmering, though she immediately blamed it on her eye watering.

 

It was only the yelp that shrieked in her ears, Spirit’s, which gave her warning as the floor opened up beneath her, deconstructing right beneath her feet. She gasped, the sudden swoop in her stomach making her feel sick, the panic knotting in her throat. And when she threw her hand out to reach for some sort of leverage, she caught only air.


	2. What Big Teeth You Have

_“There’s a wolf in my heart for you. I am an animal for what I need. You are the wilderness inside me. I run forever but I won’t get far ‘cause if I don’t have you I will starve.”_

 

* * *

 

Her first thought was that she was getting really sick and tired of vortexes. Vortexes and bright lights and being thrown into what felt like walls that were really floors and, honestly, she was a little nauseous after being tossed around that much, too.

 

The migraine didn’t help much, either.

 

Marie peeled herself off of the floor, her eye blurry until she brought her fist up and rubbed at it, eventually clearing her vision enough to recognize that she wasn’t outside, as she was with The Three Little Pigs story, but she was on a hard-packed dirt floor. She groaned, making her way upright, taking note of any bruises or broken skin.

 

Most of the damage she could identify as soreness, particularly in her back from not sleeping in a proper bed, as well as being thrown about in the storm of the Witch’s spell, so she figured she’d just have to march on.

 

When she looked down at herself, praying to Death that she wasn’t in another ridiculous animal outfit, she was at least relieved to see that proper clothing had been provided, this time. Just a plain dress, barely hitting her knees if it weren’t for the ruffle with a red apron on top. She felt comfortable enough.

 

She brought a hand up to feel at her collar, finding it bare.

 

That would be a little annoying, but she assumed then was not the time for complaining about proper clothing. If the witch was only trying to contain them, she didn’t have the time to whine about her lack of collar, or sleeves.

 

It was downright rude, if you asked her, but no one did.

 

The room she was in was minimalist: just a bed shoved over to the side, one she noted with bitterness that she could have found herself on instead of the dirty floor, a small pot in the corner, and a door that was half open.

 

It was only then that she could detect the barely noticeable scuffling that indicated another living being somewhere in the house, now that she wasn’t so occupied with cataloguing herself. By the sound of it, it was certainly larger than she was, but not by much.

 

Swallowing, Marie brought her elbows close to her. Even if she couldn’t transform, she’d been told that she had a hell of a swing, and she was more than ready to use it if need be. She could take it in a fight, fair, or otherwise.

 

Slowly, she stepped forward, noting that, just as last time, her usual heels were missing, though, instead of a glorified footsie pajama, she was at least wearing flat Marie Janes this time. It reminded her slightly of being a child, back at the DWMA when she could barely walk in heels. When she could barely fight her way out of a paper bag.

 

She could defend herself this time.

 

As she stepped forward, she kept her eye focused directly in front of her, knowing that the dirt floor wouldn’t give off a harsh squeak to alert whatever was lurking in the shadows of the fact that she was about to reveal who or what they were.

 

Marie’d read the stories. Plenty of them. Most of them from her mother, in her original, Swedish tongue, stories that did not follow her to Nevada, but she knew the usual ones as well. And, frankly, most of them usually ended or featured someone experiencing something horrific. If Spirit’s house burning down last time was any indication (though, of course, that wasn’t much part of the script), misfortune was certain to be a strong similarity in most of the stories they found themselves in, and who knew how many that would end up piling to.

 

When Marie’s shoulder found the door, it opened without even the smallest of screeches, and she sent a thanks up to whoever or whatever was watching over the improbability of Fairy Tale physics to give her enough of a blessing to grant oiled hinges. That certainly made it easier for her tiny form to find its way out of the room, clinging close to the walls.

 

Out of the confined space and into the hallway, she took note of the fact that there were no lamps. She had shadows on her side and despite the fact that she was dressed in stark white and bright, garish red, the darkness gave her enough camouflage to give her a sense of ease.

 

But all of her muscles tensed when she stepped forward and heard the brush of cloth on the banister. Footsteps started up and her stomach bottomed out from under her when she realized that they were rushed, and coming right behind her.

 

With a wail, she whirled around, a single fist flicking out and aiming upward, the other preparing to shoot out and hit whatever creature it was (Oh, not an ogre. Ogre’s ATE people).

 

The familiar yelp as her attack met flesh stopped the second assault and Marie found her eye going wide when Azusa reared backward, her black hair flying around her face as she caught herself on the wall, her hands coming up to check if her nose was broken. Marie was aiming for the solar plexus of a much larger creature, which was unfortunate for the average-heighted crossbow.

 

“Oh my Death, ‘Zusa! I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you warn me!?” Marie asked, rushing forward.

 

“I-I was about to,” the other woman replied, but it was muffled with how swollen her mouth was getting. Marie cringed, gently reaching for the bottom of her skirt to try to mop away some of the blood, but Azusa was already reaching for the handkerchief she always had on her for cleaning her glasses to stop up the spurt coming from the nose she made sure wasn’t broken.

 

Well, that was extra rude of that witch, then. Marie couldn’t keep her heels, but Azusa got to retain possession of her hanky? The second Marie had control enough to transform her arm into a hammer, she was going to teach that witch some manners.

 

“Well. . .at least you aren’t an ogre?” Marie tried to console, not realizing that the only person who had the fear that ogres were going to be involved was her, and Azusa smartly kept her mouth shut in fear of Marie’s rapid-fire temper flailing off again, ending in the younger getting walloped in the face by the woman nicknamed “The Pulverizer”.

 

 

Instead, Azusa pulled herself upward with just a little help from her best friend so she could find support against the wall.

 

Carefully, she chose her next words with as much delicacy and tact as she could muster up.

 

“There are no ogres, Marie.”

 

“Oh! Well, that’s good! They eat people, y’know?”

 

“. . .yes. Yes, they do,” Azusa replied, though the extent of her knowledge on ogres ventured to bridges.

 

Or was that trolls? She never had much reason to remember the difference between the two, in the past.

 

“So. . .if there are no ogres, do you have any clue which story we’re in, this time? And where’s Stein? And Spirit?”

 

“I haven’t seen either of them, but there’s a red cloak downstairs, so I presume they’re in the forest.”

 

Marie looked down at herself, taking in the red apron tied on her person. She groaned. “I’m sensing a theme,” she muttered, sighing and moving toward the stairs. If the cloak was downstairs, and she was the one in red, it could only mean that she was the one on the chopping block.

 

Frankly, the fact that the book didn’t immediately assign Spirit as Little Red Riding Hood was a failed opportunity: he already had the hair for it.

* * *

 

Stein was already tired of waking up face first on the floor, and it was only the second tale in the entire book. Death only knew how many more there were, though Stein doubts even God himself had much clue about the situation.

 

And if he did, he was a sadistic bastard for letting them wallow in that misery.

 

Stein could respect that in a person, so he only groaned, trying to bring himself up on his palms but found that he was heavier than he last remembered. Only when the thought flit through his tired mind that he realized that there was a weight settled upon his legs, and Stein instinctively kicked whatever it was on top of him to the side, his foot connecting with something fleshy and solid.

 

Something that gave off a rather high pitched, though undoubtedly masculine yelp.

 

Stein went to roll, but when he tried to sit up, he became all too aware of the tail that he had acquired and, seemingly, kept. The pain shuddered up his spine and he immediately went to his side, curling in slightly and biting down a curse. Instead, he brought his palms to the floor, pushing himself up until he was on his haunches so he could come upright once more.

 

When he turned, were he not so used to schooling his face, he thinks he would have laughed.

 

And then, he did.

 

Spirit looked at him like he had two heads, the man still trying to clear his mind of the disorientation of waking up. Not to mention the fact that it seemed as though he’d hit his head on the way to the next story, whichever one it was. It seemed smooth transitions into the tales were out of the question for them, but he had been jostled quite a bit.

 

“What?” he slurred, going to rub his eyes and yawning.

 

“It’s almost like middle school,” Stein said, biting down on his laughter and shaking his head as he watched Spirit’s eyebrows meet in the middle in confusion.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Lilac isn’t really your shade.”

 

At that, Spirit’s eyes widened, remembering that Stein had said the same thing when he had witnessed Spirit putting on one of Kami’s bras when they were kids.

 

Really, Spirit was more suited for a burnt orange or something similar. Lavender lace just made him look sickly.

 

Spirit immediately groaned, closing his eyes and looking down at himself, trying to catalogue what ridiculous getup he had been forced into this time. When he took note of what was on him, he immediately groaned once more, going to run a hand through his hair and feeling something soft fall from his head and land next to him with a sad thump.

 

A bonnet.

 

That witch had put him in a bonnet.

 

He didn’t have too much trouble with the dress, if he was to be absolutely honest. Dresses were breezy, and the material was usually nice on his skin. No, it was the fact that it was the most hideous dress in the existence of dresses that made him embarrassed.

 

He felt like he could swim in it, and the fact that it was a jaundiced lilac certainly didn’t help. The horrifically clashing green lace that looped at the bottom was fluffy.

 

The bonnet was the worst of it. It looked like a damn cupcake. A damn cupcake with a curly gray-haired wig attached to it.

 

“What the fuck-“

 

He was only cut off by Stein’s giggles as the man finally noticing the orange bunny slippers that adorned Spirit’s feet.

 

“Hey, I wouldn’t be laughing Mr. Big Bad Wolf!” Spirit cried, scrunching his mouth to the side and standing up, folding his arms in front of him self-consciously.

 

“And you aren’t laughing,” Stein pointed out, his residue of his glee still evident in his voice as he surveyed his surroundings. Not a field, this time. Instead it looked something like a cabin, what with the low windows with purple, frilly curtains attached and the wooden door to the side.

 

A wolf and a man dressed in a granny’s nightgown in a cabin. It sounded particularly uncomfortable, but also somewhat familiar. Stein got up and walked over to the window, pushing the fabric that kept the outside world from him to the side so he could look at the environment they were in.

 

It was just a crap-ton of trees. Trees everywhere. Trees farther than the eye could see. Stein lifted a brow.

 

There weren’t too many tales they could have landed in. Beyond which, he was starting to sense a theme in regards to what role he was playing in them, though he couldn’t be certain since he only had two tales to base his hypothesis on.

 

Spirit was still grumbling when Stein turned around and stretched, his back and shoulders popping before he quickly turned his head and his neck, too, gave off a sick crack. Spirit winced from his spot against the wall examining the doily that was the outfit he’d been shoved into.

 

“So? Are there angry huntsmen outside?”

 

Stein’s deadpan didn’t seem amused. “Only trees.”

 

“. . .we’re in a cabin in the woods?”

 

“It appears that way.”

 

“Stein! That’s a horror movie waiting to happen! And the attractive redhead always dies first!”

 

“You have nothing to worry about, then.”

 

“Wait, wha- Stein!”

 

Stein ignored his friend’s offended gasp. A grandmother, a wolf, and a cabin in the woods. It sounded like a joke.

 

Spirit was at least correct in the assumption that it seemed like a horror movie.

 

“Say, Spirit, the wolf is meant to murder the grandmother in these stories, righ-“

 

“And that’s my cue,” Spirit said, scrambling to the door.

 

“I don’t believe I have my scalpels with me, but-“

 

But Spirit had already slammed the door open and stomped into the woods, likely trying to find the rest of the group without any idea as to where they were. Stein chuckled to himself once more before he looked down at the floor where Spirit had left the disgrace of a hat behind. Stein snorted, kicking it to the side before he, too, stepped out, leaving the door unlocked.

 

The wolf was the main villain in all of those stories, so he didn’t have much worry as to anyone else coming in and trying to wreck havoc. Besides which, he was in high spirits, and he had at least managed to piece together what story they were in. He was right when he said that the grandmother was supposed to be murdered, but dismembered or dissected wasn’t really part of the deal.

 

Not that he remembered, at least.

 

The heinous rhyme that had come on the wind had informed him, and he assumed everyone else, that they had to complete the stories in order to make their way out of the book. And though he didn’t eat Spirit, he _had_ driven him off, so he supposed that was close enough to getting rid of the grandmother.

 

He refused to wear the clothes, though. No story book, witch, God, or person would ever be able to convince him to put on slippers and a bonnet. Not in that lifetime or any other.

 

He wracked his brain, trying to remember what the next part of the story was. He had only read it once for a throwaway class when he was an undergrad. It seems even a medical degree couldn’t get him out of electives. “Well rounded” the councilors had said.

 

And physics, it seemed, did not count.

 

Regardless, he had enjoyed the Brother’s Grimm flair for bloodshed, so he had actually remembered some of their stories, and if he recalled correctly, he was supposed to meet whoever “Little Red” had been designated as in the middle of the woods.

 

He almost hoped it wasn’t Marie. The witch would have some warped sense of humor to send the most directionless of them all into the middle of an unfamiliar forest and—

 

Yeah, it was most certainly Marie. If the curly pig’s tail made from a pipe-cleaner hadn’t been enough f a dead giveaway to the witch’s humor, sending Marie, who could get lost in a hallway with one turn, out into the wilderness was right up her alley.

 

When he focused his soul perception, he found that he immediately felt a twinge of a headache coming on, and he blinked a few times in surprise, cutting off the focus.

 

That was odd. He was fine in the last tale.  Perhaps being in the pages for an extended period of time was sapping him of his abilities, blocking off his soul like with the Death Scythes.

 

He focused his perception once more, this time ignoring the pain in his head until he found what he was looking for. The warm, flickering soul was golden and massive, and when he looked closely, nothing seemed to be different from the last time he’d looked at her.

 

Perhaps it was just him, then.

 

He blinked a few time, taking in a deep breath before he made his way toward the lighthouse that was Marie’s soul.

 

Splitting headache, or no, the show must, as they say, go on.

 

Or rather, the fucked up fairy tale they had managed to land themselves into.

 

He was taking a sabbatical the second he got back to the DWMA.

* * *

 

The woods weren’t such a terrifying place, not in her eye. Certainly an improvement on the last forest. It was. . .beautiful. Large flowers were blooming everywhere, and the path was dirt, but the grass that grew wasn’t uncomfortably high, just barely tickling at her ankles, and she dangled the basket from the crook of her elbow, stepping forward.

 

The directions weren’t that hard. Two rights after she crossed the hollow tree and a left when she got the honeycomb shaped spider’s web.

 

But the directions didn’t mention anything about a fork in the road.

 

“Oh, damnit. That’s not supposed to happen,” she said, looking over the note she had found in the basket provided. “Take a right at the hollow tree. . .and another right. . .and a left at the spider’s web. . .ugh!”

 

Nothing. No mention of a fork in the road, no mention of a direction she should go. There wasn’t even a helpful sign that gave her anything of a hint.

 

Her eye flicked from left to right, her head turning to compensate for her blind spot before she sighed, deflating slightly.

 

“Left it is,” she said, before turning and taking the right path, her basket gently hitting against her hip as her cloak swirled around her.

 

Before she knew it, she had entirely deviated from the directions that had been listed, though she imagines they were particularly useless, regardless, considering she’d been wandering for a good few minutes and still saw no cabin.

 

At least the forest was lovely. There were flowers there the likes of which she’d never see in Nevada, and she smiled. Whoever had been cast as the grandmother would surely appreciate them. And if not, she appreciated them, so she threw caution to the wind. The entire forest was silent save for the breeze, and she assumed she had more than enough time.

 

It was almost comfortable, picking flowers in the woods. She felt like she was a girl, again, back when she was still in Sweden and she would collect blooms for her mother to put in her pretty spun-glass vase. The song that hummed out of her was one from her childhood, sung in her native Swedish as she bent and plucked flower after flower from the rich, dark earth.

* * *

 

He thinks he would be able to locate her based off of sound alone. She was singing so loudly, the dead could have been woken up. Partially, it was because the woods were strangely resonant, seeming to carry every noise on the, undoubtedly enchanted breeze. Besides which, it wasn’t as though he had had to go very far. It seemed as though Marie had managed to find her way close enough to the cabin to be barely a five minute walk away.

 

When he made his way down the dirt path, he noticed that she had her back to him, her humming having turning into singing as she swayed and. . .was she dancing?

 

She was dancing. She was placing all the flowers she was unearthing atop the checkered cloth in the basket that dangled from her elbow and he watched as a few blooms fell from their place while she moved around.

 

When she swirled around her cape came with her and he watched as the fabric pulled from her body to billow around her, dark and red and stark in contrast the earthy tones around her.

 

He hadn’t realized he’d started to smile until he felt his scar twist on his face, and he slowly made his way to her, his fingers twitching by his side.

 

She did another spin, still singing, her arms coming up as though to hold onto shoulders that were about the same height his were. With the silent step of a man who was used to scaring the ever-loving shit out of anyone unlucky enough to put their guard down around him, he came forward and grasped both her hands in his own, starling her so badly that the low note she had been singing turned into a slight shriek, dropping her basket when she tried to turn around as though to strike him before his laughter hit her ears.

 

“Stein? Death, you scared the hell out of me!”

 

He only answered her with his own humming, a slight mockery of the song she had been singing, since he didn’t actually know the words or the tune, but she couldn’t hold down her own giggle at his terrible attempt.

 

“Stop! Goodness, you’re terrible.”

 

He only closed his eyes and she leaned her body against his, her small frame seeming to nestle perfectly against him. He assumed he was forgiven for having frightened her, especially since she started moving once again, swaying slightly in his hold and bringing her arms, still held in his grasp, down around her waist so he was holding her.

 

Something about his body heat put her at ease, made her feel comfortable and her face warmed at the thought, a smile curving across her lips.

 

No one else would ever be able to say that Franken Stein of all people, master of dismembering a corpse, having actually run a class in such, and ultimate morbid prankster was comforting.

 

Regardless, she started humming once more, her soft mezzo enveloping around them and seeming to echo, being amplified and he went along with her, if only to humor her. There was some kind of magic in the air, and her voice was soft and gentle, her body twisting with his in the shade, parts of her catching the light so she seemed to glow.

 

Slowly, she wound down from the song and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat silly that he had just danced with his partner in the woods. He was reminded of when he was younger, when there were dancing exercises he had to be a part of in the Soul Resonance classes in class Half-Moon. Spirit had been his partner, back before he knew about being cut open all those years ago, but after the fact, it was Marie.

 

A good thing, too. Meisters were always supposed to lead, and it was near comical for him to bring Spirit into a dip when the redhead had at least half a foot in height over him. Marie, at least, made him feel as though he weren’t so short.

 

Even more so, now. She hadn’t grown an inch since then, he suspects, and she made him feel tall and looming, massive. His hold on her tightens for just a moment before he lets his arms drop and Marie turns around, bringing both of her hands to his chest, smiling and blushing, looking the very definition of the word luminescent.

 

When she spotted what _he_ looked like, however, her grin widened.

 

“Still the wolf, I see?”

 

He really didn’t like to be reminded, and he looked at her with his mouth twitching downward. She must have noticed it immediately, because she only chuckled, clutching his labcoat and standing on tip-toes so she could land a sloppy kiss on his chin, which he assumed was getting particularly scratchy due to not being able to shave for the past few days.

 

Not many razors available in a fairy tale, it seemed.

 

“Oh, cheer up! Don’t you have a grandmother to eat?”

 

“Spirit isn’t really my type,” Stein deadpanned, and Marie almost howled with how hard she started to laugh at the idea of Spirit being the grandmother.

 

“Death, was he-“

 

“In the nightgown? I’ll have nightmares.”

 

“That’s too good!” Marie commented, making a move to wipe her eyes. After she did so, she rested her hand on his upper arm. “I guess that means you’ve met him?”

 

“That is how the story progresses, yes.”

 

“And. . .?”

 

“And I didn’t eat him,” Stein said, his eyebrow raising. “Human flesh is too gamy.”

 

She laughed nervously, smacking on the shoulder. And though he suspects it was meant to be a tender love-tap, something closer to “oh, you!” it was more like someone had slammed a brick against him.

 

Death, he was glad she liked him.

 

“So, where is he?”

 

Stein shrugged. “He left in a huff. The slippers aren’t very conductive to this terrain, but I suspect he’ll do fine.”

 

Marie shook her head in amusement, her soft blonde hair coming over her cheek before she looked at him peculiarly. “So. . .the grandmother’s house is empty?”

 

Stein looked at her curiously, nodding his head. “I would assume so.”

 

Her smile twisted slightly, becoming more suggestive as she moved her hand to play with the collar of his shirt. Stein, finally having caught on to what she was implying, blinked down at her, feeling his lips twitch up.

 

“It appears so.”

 

“Well. . .I _am_ supposed to go to my grandmother’s house. . .if he’s out for the moment, I’m sure we can. . .improvise?” Marie said, her smirk curling over her face as she settled her weight to one side, leaning her basket against her hip and blinking up at Stein sweetly.

 

When he grins, she feels her brows lift, a particularly mischievous twinkle in her eye. “My,” she begins, “what big teeth you have.”

 

Stein only rolls his eyes, grasping her by the elbow and taking them in the general direction of the cabin.

 

He still had his dignity.

* * *

 

In her defense, they at least waited until they got _to_ the cabin.

 

Just, not inside.

 

Stein brought his hand to her lower back, pressing her to him and lowering his face to her own to brush their lips together, licking over her cupid’s bow and nipping at it before she leaned to him and more firmly connected their mouths. He stroked her spine, settling his touch slightly lower and pushing her against him so she could practically feel him breathing.

 

She was the one who reached out, shoving the door behind him open with a loud clang so he could step through it, lifting her up and cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around him.

 

When he pulled away from the kiss, his mouth came to her neck, familiar, surrendered territory to him, but he was hindered by the satin ribbon that kept her cape and red hood on. He made what seemed like an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, soft enough to almost get covered by the click of Marie locking the door. She only smiled in amusement, trusting his hold to be steady enough to support her as she brought her hands from around his neck to card through his hair. Her left came to his bolt, immediately, softly tracing where it met his skull, which brought a shiver through him. She’d have to wait until they were closer to the bed to click it back, because his knees would buckled and the last place she wanted to end up was on the floor: accidentally, at least.

 

The other, however, came to the large, silver-colored ears that had never been there before, and when she scratched behind them, his eyes glazed over before he shook his head and dislodged her hold, scowling. She nearly lost her balance, her arms flying to his shoulders as leverage when he shoved her back onto the wood of the door with enough force to have her groan out, arching.

 

“Not the ears,” he told her, his voice scratchy as he took her earlobe between his teeth. Slowly, he moved his mouth down the side of her neck, lips hot and dry on her throat as he made his descend.

 

Her nails dug into his shoulders, creasing his shirt when he hoisted her up higher, his arms not even shaking as he lifted her until her breasts were at mouth level on him, and he nudged the open edges of her cloak aside, giving him access to her collar bones. She lifted her chin, giving him as much room to work as possible while he sucked on the delicate skin where they met, his sharpened teeth scraping and leaving a line as he mouthed at her.

 

She almost huffed when he pulled away, breathing cool air on the reddened flesh, and when she brought her palm to his bolt, clicking it back twice, he nearly dropped her. She had to keep herself up by pressing into the wood and clutching him, gravity dragging her down enough so that she could kiss him, again, taking advantage of his open mouth to slip her tongue in and count his teeth, grabbing hold of his hair and grinding against him as best she could.

 

Both of his palms shifted under her thighs until he had a firmer grasp and he moved away from the door, turning them around. The room was small, making up most of the entire cabin space, with the bed shoved to the side and no wall to separate where the pitiful excuse for a kitchen was, in the corner. It didn’t take too many strides for him to walk forward, promptly releasing Marie and letting her fall onto the mattress with the smallest of squeaks. She bounced twice on the uncomfortable surface, a far cry from her pillow top, but when he pressed his body over her own, she could only shiver, finding herself comfortably pinned.

 

With her on a bed and with both his hands free, again, he could grasp hold of her red cloak, shoving it until almost the entirety of it was in one fist. He moved the bunch to the side, bending over her and finding her jugular, latching onto her pulse and sucking hard at her neck, stroking her sides through the thin material of her outfit. The ribbon rubbed over her throat and he followed it across her neck, saturating some parts as he sucked on her skin, creating a slight dragging sensation as the wet fabric moved over her flesh.

 

Marie pressed her leg to his side, and, despite the fact that the action was blunted by fabric, the motion of her slowly sliding it upward until it was wrapped around him, arching into his touch, was enough to make him groan. The sound was blunted by her skin, the vibrations tickling her, prompting a giggle. The chain reaction, his ears twitching and catching the underside of her jaw, made her laugh again and she squirmed. His ears were soft and his hair wisped over her as well, making her shiver, still grinning as she brought her hand to his back, dragging it down until she caught the hem of his shirt with her fingernails and pulled up, lightly scratching the exposed skin as she shoved at the material.

 

He moved away from her enough to find his way out of it, carelessly settling it to the side and laying his glasses with it before he went back to what he was doing. With far more strategy than with his own outfit, he pulled at the puffed up, white sleeves of Marie’s dress, exposing her shoulders. He scraped over her collarbones, listening in to her breathing getting harsher as he made his way across. When his arm wormed beneath her to undo the tie that kept her red apron on, she only lifted her hips to give him better access, taking the straps off of herself so she was just left in the plain, white slip. He brought his hands to her hips as he kissed her, caressing her lower lip with his tongue and waiting until she opened her mouth, thinking he was asking for entrance, and instead bringing the meat of her lip between her teeth and pulling away slightly as he dragged her dress up, bunching the fabric under her breasts.

 

It was her own impatience that had her snapping the clap to her bra, shimmying her way out of everything until she was left in just her cloak, still in his fist, and her panties, finally taking a second to smooth her fingers down his sides when she finished. He licked at the underside of her jaw before he found the ribbon holding her cloak in place and bit down on it, pulling until it fell away and that, too, could be removed.

 

Slowly, his fingernail ghosted down her bare side, over the curve of her hip, down to her knee and then back up. Her mouth was already hanging open when his palm whispered over her navel so he could repeat his motions on her other side, and she breathed out his name, her hand coming over his to guide him. She directed him downward and his fingertips just breached the line of her panties before he broke free of her hold to instead move back upward, tapping at her ribcage before running another line down her body, this time with even less pressure.

 

“We’ve barely started, Marie,” was all he said, gently biting between her breasts, his tongue soothing over the slight sting his teeth left behind. His eyes focused on the blush that was collecting over her torso and he flicked her nipple, the sensation making Marie call out his name. He paused, giving her time to calm before he lowered his head and licked. He took her in his mouth, sucking lightly while he pinched the other and she keened, wailing when he lightly scraped his teeth and pressed the flat of his tongue to her. He pulled away enough to blow some cool air over the wet spot.

 

He ran his thumb gently over the underside of her breast before he lightly stroked her sternum, setting a fingernail on her and running it straight down, like an incision line, rubbing at the smooth skin of her belly. She spread her legs open farther and when his hand came to her inner thigh it forced a needy cry out of her.  He only stroked the skin delicately, his mouth following down her body as he ran his touch to her calves. He didn’t take his lips off of her while he made his descend, only grasping the back of her knees, lifting her legs in the air and settling her weight more on her shoulders. With no hesitation, he hooked his fingers on the side of her panties, moving them off her body while licking down her leg until his lips, chapped and hot, lay a kiss on her ankle and he threw the scrap of cloth to the side.

 

Marie lifted her eyeline, swallowing hard when their eyes locked and he slowly mouth-marked her up her legs, his hands rubbing the outside of her calves, her knees, her thighs while he licked and bit at the more delicate flesh on the inside. Her breathing was harsh and jagged as he got slower and slower, taking more time the closer to his hips he got. Just when she thought he was finally going to touch her where she most wanted him to, when he got to the apex of her thighs, he only breathed hot air on her, making her shudder, but then he looked at her smugly, teeth all but glinting in the dim light, until he moved on to the other leg and marked her back down to the opposite ankle.

 

It was torturous, slow as anything, and each scrape of his teeth had her groaning. It was the barest pinprick of danger that set her on edge: the canines sharp as a scalpel and unwilling to do any harm, but the teasing of that pain, the control and effort he was putting in to make it just a butterfly of a touch had her panting. Her hands came to her breasts, squeezing and pinching.

 

He looked up once more, taking in how she was arching, likely aching, her hips stuttering. He had an explicit view of her panting, already wet, blushing from shoulders to hips and he brought her ankle over his shoulder, moving back up and hunching over so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable as he raised her hips to him.

 

When he parted her, with a surgeon’s precise touch, she bucked and he waited for a moment before he rubbed her clit with his thumb, lowering his head and slowly dragging his tongue over her, from her opening to where he was already pleasuring her. Marie felt everything inside of her coil up and grow even more sensitive, her spine flexing at his motions. Her nipples were achingly hard between her fingers, and she was already throbbing, soaked enough that when his fingertips slid further down over her, it was effortless. She stuttered when he circled around her entrance, but he didn’t insert a finger. Instead, he teased her opening, the nerves there most sensitive to sensation, until she was gasping. 

 

Marie tilted her hips up move, panting and trying to keep herself still while he pleased her, his free hand rubbing up her inner thigh and then moving down to throw her other leg over his shoulder. She hooked her ankles behind him, urging him for more. When he slid a finger into her, crooking it, her toes curled while she rubbed herself into his mouth, not even thinking of whether he could breathe or not. She cried out, her entire body shuddering, as he eased a second finger into her while sucking on her clit, gently locating and tapping the rough patch over her walls.  Her entire body was twitching, head moving to side to side, and he stroked her lower back. The somewhat uncomfortable pillows were cushioning her shoulders, where most of her weight had settled, but she felt lightheaded, body curling in on itself as he ate her out.

 

Her hand came down to fist his hair, but he moved his own from where it had been warming her back, so she could grasp that, instead. He hitched his fingers inside her, pressing them up and forward, where she was so soft and swollen, bringing a wanting cry out of her.

 

When he suddenly stilled in her, the ache was almost immediate, her whine coming out high and keening, body shimmying and hips shaking, trying to find movement. He took a moment to note her rapid pulse on his tongue, both a delicate flutter and a dull throb, matching how fast she was pulsing around his fingers. He was breathing hard through his nose and Marie’s grasp on his hand tightened even further as he pulled away enough to nip over her until he got to her hips.

 

He bit down softly, stroking her walls again, barely, listening to her gasp, her sweet breath carrying tatters of his name. She writhed harder, a plea on her tongue. He could match her fluttering, could go at the pace of her heartbeat, as he knew she liked, but he only slowed down more, using the lightest pressure.

 

“What do you want, Marie?” he asked, biting over her hips and sucking the skin until she sobbed out.

 

“Eat me,” she begged, grinding back onto his hand, rhythmically rocking. “ _Please_.”

 

He looked her in the eye as he made the short trip back, laying his tongue flat and moving it over her hips, nipping down and straining his eyes until he tilted his head and kissed her lips, tongue sliding between them to swirl over her clit once more. One arm came underneath her to wrap around her hips, tilting them so he had better access without having to spread her, and he finally sped up how fast he was tapping at her g-spot, pulling her to him to enthusiastically bury his face. Her cry of “yes!” shuddered through him like electricity, making it difficult to continue ignoring how hard her reactions had made him. She was practically dripping on his tongue, the taste of her making his head spin, her scent in his nose.  Stein took short, sharp breaths while he licked in long, smooth drags, his world narrowing until she was the only thing in it.

 

Marie’s spine arched, her shoulders aching, and she threw her arm out and over her face while she frantically twitched. Her thighs came in closer, his bolt stamping an imprint on one side as she tensed with his movement, her body feeling tuned higher and higher until her hips snapped forward and she moaned out harshly, yelping and bringing her calves to Stein’s back with a smack as she climaxed. He gave a few more delicate licks over her, easing her through her climax until her body relaxed, muscles going slack and he could move away, lifting her legs from his shoulders and bringing them to the mattress once more.

 

His back was killing him, having been hunched over to properly accommodate for how small Marie was, his neck feeling as though it had a cramp in it. Still, when he looked at her pleased, dazed expression, her face pink and glowing, he laid his cheek down onto her chest, feeling pleased with himself when all she did was give a sweet sigh, arms flopping near boneless around him.

 

“I like this fairy tale,” she mumbled out, and his chuckle shook her torso. Slowly, her hand came to his hair and played with the locks at the base of his neck, looping the strands around her fingers. Her petting seemed to please him, because when she looked down, he had a smug grin on his face and she could only stroke down his spine in response.

 

When she shifted beneath him, twining their legs, she finally felt his erection against her and he groaned, burying his face in her chest. Her eyebrows went up before her expression morphed into something more resembling affection.

 

“Just happy to see me?” she asked jokingly, smiling, and he only closed his eyes, placing a kiss on her breast right where her heart was beneath the sternum. She felt warm from head to toes, a bubbly feeling in her stomach. He wasn’t the most affectionate person around others, but when they were alone, he could be a real sap. She grabbed at his arm and tugged at him, bringing him to lip level with her, one of her hands still tangled in his hair. He blinked at her, holding himself up on his palms, which were on either side of her head before she cupped the back of his neck and kissed him, brushing their lips together and breathing his name.

 

Immediately, he melted to her, arching as her free hand snuck down his chest, leaving light red marks where her nails scraped down his torso. It was when he felt her play with his belt-buckle, undoing it with a practiced ease and unbuttoning his slacks that he understood, pulling away slightly.

 

He opened his mouth to tell her that she wasn’t obligated, but she pulled on his hair, forcing his head back so she could lay a kiss on his throat as she brought her hand into the barrier of his boxers and pants, stroking his cock. His breath hitched and he swallowed, choking on a moan as Marie shimmied his final scraps of cloth down to his knees with her feet. His head was spinning, every inch of him pliant and sensitive and wanting for her touch. He kicked his pants off, maneuvering so he could kiss her again, and she smiled against his mouth.

 

And then his world was spinning and he landed on his back with the breath knocked out of him and Marie straddling his waist, her hand coming to cup his cheek. Thankfully, his tail hadn’t been put in an uncomfortable position, but the motions still surprised him. “Marie-?”

 

“What?” she teased, and the way she lowered her voice made his cock jump. “I’m Little Red _Riding_ Hood, remember?”

 

He moaned her name, bucking and she kissed his shoulder while she took him in her hand, the weight and heat of him comforting and familiar. She looked down, taking on how flushed he was, having to take her lip between her teeth at the sight.

 

“Death, Stein, you’re _dripping_ ,” she said, her breathless voice making it feel like electricity was humming through his bones. Her thumb stroked over the head, smearing his pre-cum and he stuttered, rocking into her touch.

 

“M-Marie,” he muttered out, closing his eyes and surrendering to pleasure she was providing. When she stopped, grasping him at the base instead, she hovered over his hips and brought him to between her lips and he jolted at the warm wetness of her. He bucked and the head of his cock dragged over her, coming to her clit as she lubricated him and she grabbed one of his shoulders with her free hand as leverage as she sucked in a harsh breath.

 

Death, that felt good.

 

They rocked together for a few moments, and when he opened his eyes to take in the sight of her, she was flushed from knees to throat, looking rosy and wrecked. He tossed his head back, biting his lip when she finally took him inside of her, her walls already throbbing. She started to ride him, throwing some of her hair over her shoulder as she leaned over him and he could smell the perfume of her shampoo in his nose as she bounced on him.

 

His body bucked at how good she felt around him, the slick, velvety warmth of her body so perfect, and she gasped when he did, tightening slightly in the pleasure it provided. Both of his hands came to her hips, directing her pace as they moved together, and one hand snuck between her thighs to stroke her clit, making her tremble all over. She cupped one of her breasts, playing with the nipple between two fingers as she fucked herself on him. She was already so sensitive from her first orgasm, and it didn’t take her long to lose herself a second time. Her muscles went taut as she slammed down on him, grabbing his shoulder so hard he knew he was going to bruise as she keened, climaxing all over his thighs and rearing forward to push their mouths together, her body frantically twitching.

 

He could barely thrust in a few more times before he followed her, bringing himself in almost to the base and holding her hips tightly as he arched off of the poor excuse for a mattress. Marie collapsed on him, all of her weight settling atop his torso and she disconnected their mouths, hooking her chin over his shoulder instead as she panted in his ear. After a moment, he gently pulled out of her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close as they caught their breath.

 

He was so warm and comforting, and she thinks she could hear his heartbeat in her ears since it was fluttering so hard. The closeness made her so damn happy, and she snuggled close to him, her eyelashes tickling his cheek as she settled, and he could practically hear the grin in her voice.

 

“I. . . _really_ like. . .this fairy tale,” she said, still breathing hard.

 

He only pressed her closer to him.

 

He thinks it’s his favorite, too.

* * *

 

They must have been asleep for a while, because they woke with a jolt at the knocking, loud and unrelenting.

 

“Guys!” Spirit shouted, banging on the locked, wooden door once again as Azusa stood off to the side, an eyebrow raised.

 

“How can you be certain they’re in there-“

 

“Why would there be a locked door if they aren’t?” Spirit asked, and Azusa sighed once more, readjusting the axe that was over her shoulder. Her head felt slightly swimmy, like the magic in the air was getting her drunk, and Spirit continued to knock, his frilly grandmother’s nighgown billowing in the sweet breeze.

 

“Steeeeeeiiiiiiin!” Spirit wailed and when he heard a thump and some rustling coming from the inside, he huffed. “Finally! C’mon! Azusa’s had her cue to come in and murder Stein twenty minutes ago! If you don’t remember, we’re trying to get out of this book.”

 

There was silence for a good few moments before a definitely-not-Stein voice called out.

 

“. . .Azusa’s the woodcutter, too? But she was my mom?” Marie asked, finally speaking up.

 

“There clearly aren’t enough characters to go around, Marie. Look, Stein ate you or you rode him or whatever. Good on you guys. Two thumbs up. But I want to go home-“

 

No sooner had he spoke that the door slammed open and Marie’s fist came flying out, nailing Spirit on the shoulder and forcing him a few steps back as he almost lost his balance.

 

“Marie-“

 

“You pervert!” Marie huffed, folding her arms over her chest and glaring. Her hair was a mess, her cloak clearly put on backward, and without her shoes, she stood even shorter. When Azusa glanced into the cabin, she spotted Stein stuck in his shirt and she rolled her eyes.

 

“Marie! Damn, that hurt!” Spirit commented, holding his possibly dislocated shoulder.

 

“Don’t make such filthy jokes,” she said, her mouth twisting to the side.

 

“Jeez, you sure are moody for just getting lai-“

 

“Spirit,” Azusa said, as though in warning, and the man snapped his mouth shut, grumbling.

 

“Okay, got it. Anyway, let’s get the hell out of here. I hate this fairy tale,” he said, and made to move past Marie into the cabin, but the woman didn’t budge. Spirit looked down in confusion. “Marie?”

 

“You don’t actually have to. . .kill him, right? We’ve gotten through the other stories without having to follow the script exactly,” she commented, and her voice came out nervous. Stein came up behind her after he finally managed to wrestle his shirt back on, his warmth a comforting presence.

 

“Well, how else is the story meant to progress?” Azusa asked, and when Marie got a good look at her, she couldn’t help but admit that plaid was nice on her friend. It really brought out the gay in her eyes.  Nonetheless, she wasn’t about to let someone hack away at her boyfriend, and she only stood up slightly taller, not even taking up two thirds of the doorway with how tiny she was.

 

“I dunno, but not like that,” Marie said, and the conviction in her voice was almost iron strong. Azusa looked at her for a moment before her eyes flicked up to Stein. His ears twitched atop his head, and his eyebrows were raised.

 

Her head felt so thick. It felt like she couldn’t think straight. There was magic in the air and that was obvious to everyone else, and when she opened her mouth again, her voice came out slurred. “Look, we have to get out of here.”

 

“Azusa’s right. Marie, he isn’t going to _stay_ dead,” Spirit said.

 

“You don’t know that,” Marie said, her eye flicking from Spirit to Azusa, and Stein felt a headache of his own coming on, the magical residue in the air making it feel like the earth was spinning.

 

Azusa’s arms moved without her consent, the axe lifting from her shoulder as she gripped it firmly. Marie’s eye widened.

 

“’Zusa? ‘Zusa what are you-“

 

She barely evaded the swipe as it came down, Stein’s hand having grasped the back of her cloak and forcing her behind him. Marie gasped, her breath hitching in her throat as she fell back, having wobbled on her feet. When she looked up at Azusa, the woman’s eyes had glazed over, her face smooth and impassive, and as she lifted the axe one more time, Marie felt the very house shake as her vision blurred.


	3. The Girl Who Cried Wolf

_“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? The big bad wolf. The big bad wolf? Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Tra la la la la”_

 

* * *

 

She almost smacked the sheep into the stratosphere when she heard the bleat sound off in her ear. Her eye snapped open and she immediately bolted upright, looking around her in a panic.

 

A field.

 

A whole damn field of sheep, all grazing around her.

 

What twisted story was she in this time?

 

She almost didn’t want to look down at herself and see whatever ridiculous getup she’d been forced in that time, but she knew she would at one point or another, so it was better to rip the bandage off fast instead of prolonging her curiosity.

 

Pink and frilly and puffed out at the hips. She thinks she’s wearing a petticoat from how scratchy the skirt feels and when she looks down to her side, she spots the curved staff that solidifies what role she was going to have.

 

Little Red was almost funny but Little Bo Peep? How many more short jokes was she going to have to face until enough was enough?

 

Moreover, three tales in and still no sign of leaving, she was starting to get concerned as to how much they had to go through until they were finally let out of the damn book so they could beat the witch. And it could have all been a lie, as well. She didn’t want to think about that, since it meant that she’d have to face the possibility that they’d die in that damn book in those damn outfits and—

 

 

Stein. Oh, Death, Stein. Had Azusa actually thrown the axe down on him? Marie was scrabbling up instantly, grabbing hold of her staff in order to help herself up without dirtying her palms, looking around over what seemed to be a sea of sheep.

 

“Stein!?” she called, taking a few steps forward and nearly falling into even more sheep. “Stein, where are you?”

 

 

Or, rather, not silence. Just the baaing of the sheep.

 

She was already sick of them. She squinted, looking around her.

 

No Azusa, no Spirit, no Stein. Death, how was she going to find her way around? She was lucky last time that she had a set of directions to go off on for the woods, but as she pat down her pockets, she realized that she had nothing on her person but the ridiculous outfit, her stupid staff that was way taller than her, and sheep farther than the eye could see.

 

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. In the distance, she could barely make out the silhouette of some sort of building, and it seemed as though there wasn’t any turns she had to take.

 

It was as good a guess as any to where her friends could be, so she sighed, swiping her palms on her skirt and began to walk.

 

And the sheep followed her.

 

As though mocking.

* * *

 

Something was off. It took Marie what felt like too short a time to get to the small village, and it seemed as though the structures would change right in front of her eye. The sheep kept baaing in her ears as though some discordant symphony of chaos.

 

She had found Azusa. And Spirit, too. But they seemed. . .out of it. Different. It wasn’t the lighthearted feeling that the other stories had. This time, there was something thick in the air, choking, and Azusa had only looked at her confused when Marie asked if she had thrown the axe down.

 

“Axe?” she asked, and Marie’s brows furrowed. She had found Spirit and Azusa simply sitting around at a table outside, eating what looked to be nothing more than a loaf of bread and some milk.

 

“Remember? From when we were in Little Red Riding Hood?” Marie insisted, and Azusa simply shook her head.

 

“Marie, we looked for you that entire story after you left the house and couldn’t find you,” Spirit butted in, his meal untouched in front of him.

 

The sheep continued baaing, butting against Marie’s legs as her lower lip dropped.

 

“No! That isn’t true! You wanted to kill Stein so that the story could go on.”

 

“Neither of us would be that desperate,” Azusa pointed out, and Marie couldn’t argue with that. Despite the fact that they often had their differences, no one would outright imply that killing Stein would ever be on the table.

 

Maybe she had. . .imagined it?

 

Moreover, arguing wouldn’t do anything.

 

“. . .Alright. . .alright. So. . .what now?” she asked, deflating and letting the conversation go for the moment. Nothing was adding up or making sense, but she felt drowsy and woozy, off-kilter.

 

“Have some milk,” Azusa insisted, pointing to the pitcher, but when Marie looked down at the multiple sheep at her feet, she grimaced.

 

“I’ll pass. Thanks.”

* * *

 

There was an offbeat, unspoken rhythm to how the days passed. It felt lazy and languid, but like they moved quickly. It seemed as though Spirit and Azusa were existing in a haze, and the damn sheep kept following Marie, making it so that she had to take them out of the abandoned town so that they could graze.

 

She had become their Sheppardess, or something. She sighed as she sat on one of the nearby rocks, waiting while the sheep ate their fill. She didn’t know how long they did so, only that it was like she would blink and the sun would go down and another day would be done.

 

It was the third day that she saw him. Or, she thinks she did. Standing off against the trunk of a tree, she would know his form anywhere. She had been lazily staring at the herd as they grazed, absentmindedly thinking of silly names for them when she looked up at the line of the forest that seemed all too dark and ominous.

 

What was it with forests and fairy tales? The people who made them certainly weren’t very creative.

 

She had blinked over and, almost as though a mirage, his broad-shouldered form seemed to peek out from behind the massive tree and she jolted, taking note of the ears atop his head and his bolt. Her entire body came alive and she jumped to her feet, immediately yelling out.

 

“Stein? Stein, over here!”

 

As she made her way toward him, the sheep seemed to almost condense, making it more difficult for her to move forward and she growled as she tried to move them aside, still yelling.

 

It was like wading through caramel. Like trying to find a way to move after her feet had been encased in cement. Every centimeter forward was a battle and why wasn’t he moving, making his way to her? He was in the shadows, but she was in broad daylight, her bright pink dress sure to attract attention.

 

“Stein!” she yelled once more, and from behind her, she heard a sharp rustle. Quickly, she turned around, her skin prickling the way it always did when she thought danger was near, but only Azusa and Spirit came up behind her, something alive and bright in their eyes.

 

“Marie? Marie, what’s going on?” Azusa asked, seeming to make her way through the sheep with ease.

 

“It’s Stein!” Marie said. “He found us.”

 

But when she turned around, pointing, he was gone.

 

 

She could have sworn she’d seen him. The swirl of his labcoat was unmistakable, not to mention his bolt.

 

“But. . .but he was right there—“

 

“Maybe you should get out of the sun, Marie,” Spirit insisted, gently grabbing her by the elbow and giving Azusa a look as they veered her away from the pasture. The sun had started to set, coloring everything an almost hellish, ruddy-pink tone. The sheep seemed to reflect the shade most of all, their fleece looking almost bloody in the atmosphere.

  
As they pulled her away, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder once more, just to make sure.

 

He wasn’t there.

* * *

 

The second time she spots him, it’s in broad daylight, and he seems as though he’s strolling in her direction. She doesn’t know how she feels. She doesn’t know how many days have passed, but it must have been a lot, and yet, he looks smooth-shaven and as clean as the day they had left the DWMA, as though he hadn’t gone through the tales or been in the woods.

 

She is confused, but she is pulled to him as she is always pulled to him. He’s grinning and, this time, the sheep seem to open a path, one she is more than willing to walk on as she waves at him.

 

When she opens her mouth, nothing comes out for several moments, and time seems to stretch.

 

It’s too hot in her dress. Too hot in her skin. She doesn’t know what’s going on.

 

The disorientation is getting to her. Is it heatstroke? Has she eaten anything in the past few days?

 

The thought brings some clarity. Had she eaten anything at all during the tales? It feels as though her body is weak and malnourished, and when she runs toward him, it seems as though she makes no progress at all though her feet are coming one foot in front of the other.

 

Marie’s mouth opens and it almost feels as though it is too wide when she yells his name, wobbling in her shoes, her skirt flicking around her.

 

“Steeeeeiiiiiiiin,” and the sound leaves her in slow-motion.

 

He is still strolling toward her, standing right there when Azusa calls her name and it is so familiar Marie feels her head spin. Just like last time. Déjà vu.

 

The world _spins_.

 

Spirit is there almost immediately, holding her by the waist as she teeters, her eye blinking heavily.

 

Had she lost her balance or was the world simply tilting?

 

She grasps hold of Spirit’s ratty peasant shirt, the one Azusa was also wearing, and shakes her head.

 

“Guys, it’s Stein-“ but her voice is slurred and she watches as Azusa shares a look with Spirit.

 

When had she looked away? One second, she was staring at him making his way to her and she was making her way to him, too. Then, the next, she was. . .looking up at her friends?

 

She tries to blink her confusion away, but Spirit only tightens his hold on her.

 

“Marie, no one’s there,” he says, as though soothingly.

 

“No, he was. . .he was. . .”

 

“Maybe it’s heatstroke?” she hears Azusa say, and when she looks at her friend’s face, it seems to morph and grows blurrier, to which Marie only shivers.

 

“Probably. She’s been out here for a while.”

 

“But I haven’t,” Marie insists, trying to bring herself upright without Spirit’s help. “I just left. . .”

 

“You left hours ago, Marie,” Azusa assured, her hand coming to Marie’s shoulder. “Look, I know you aren’t doing this to be funny, but don’t be the one to cry wolf.”

 

The words seem heavy, thick, stifling, and Marie can only breathe harder at them. When she blinks, turning her head and looking off to where the trees are, she can swear that she sees his silhouette and that, when he grins, his teeth show white against the shadow of his skin.

 

And then, she blinks once more, and he’s gone.

 

Maybe she is getting heatstroke.

 

The sheep baa and baa and baa as they follow them back to the village.

* * *

 

She is tired and sleepy and bone-weary.

 

The world wobbles around her and she doesn’t feel like it’s screwed on the right way. When she walks to the field as she usually does, she tried to recall how the sheep know where she is going. It is as though they have some kind of homing beacon, as though they are tracking her movements.

 

She doesn’t remember sleeping. She doesn’t remember doing anything. Her days are woven from getting up and walking to the field that is both too close and too far to the village. There is no food that she has ingested, and she doesn’t recall a drink.

 

Her feet come forward, her body walks, but nothing seems to move. It is as though the field finds her. Like the rock finds her.

 

The universe finds her and she is ever the same.

 

This time, it happens unlike the others. She is staring at nothing. The trees seem to shift and move, as though to laugh at her, and the wind picks up and slows down as though it is a game they are playing to mock her.

 

He doesn’t come up behind her, but he startles her all the same.

 

Seeing him seem to materialize barely ten feet in front of her disorients her further, but something about him isn’t right. He’s stretched out strangely. As though he has been rendered through memory and not through fact. He is less himself than he is a mirage, and for a second, she thinks it’s just another hallucination.

 

She goes to pinch herself, but she’s sluggish, and she barely registers the pain. The sheep seem to bleat a warning, some sort of calling that there is danger nearby, but of course they would think so. They are sheep and he is still the wolf.

 

Perhaps that’s what’s wrong. He seemed to have developed something of a snout, and she wonders faintly if a joke would be inappropriate. She could almost envision how the conversation would go.

 

_“Do you come with a muzzle?”_ she would say, and he would reply:

 

_“I come with or without one.”_

 

But as she thinks it, he seems to mouth the words, though when the sound comes out, it’s a strange, double-layered voice: a woman’s atop a man’s, neither of them his. And it seems to echo, as though not lining up. It is as though he is one of those old videos where the audio doesn’t match the video.

 

“S-Shtein?” she slurs, swaying on her rock. Her hand comes out and when she butts up against something solid and warm, her entire body seems to jump, her ears buzzing. “Stein?”

 

He hums and she feels it on her palm, and when he steps forward, bringing her face to his chest, she wonders why she suddenly can’t breathe.

 

“Stein?” she asks, again, but it is muffled by his clothing.

 

He doesn’t smell the same. There’s something dangerous in the air, sparking, and when his hands come to her shoulders, pulling her away, the nails are so sharp that they prick through her dress to the soft, vulnerable skin beneath.

 

And it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but she gasps, rearing away from him.

 

Pain brings clarity and she feels sick when she looks at his face, stretched and sick and not familiar at all.

 

“Stein?” she asks again, getting to her unsteady feet and almost falling when he cackled, his mouth opening wide as he howled.

 

His teeth are _red_.

 

There’s something grotesque about it and she finds her hands scrabbling for her staff.

 

The sheep have all disappeared. The sun has started to set.

 

When had that happened? Had it happened?

 

Her voice seemed to cover his as she screamed.

 

“Azusa!” she shrieked, jumping back just as Stein lunged at her. Marie barely managed to catch him against the stomach with her staff, slamming him a clear ten feet away. She was amazed the pink crook managed to withhold the blow, but it didn’t seem to affect Stein in the slightest.

 

Was it even him? It didn’t feel like him at all.

 

He would never attack her. Not unless he was so lost in himself that he didn’t know who she was. And he would have never embraced her if he didn’t know it was her. He wasn’t an affectionate man was almost anyone else.

 

Her heart rate increased as he stalked toward her, looking every bit like the wolf he had been turned into, and she was half expecting for him to get on all fours and run at her.

 

Where was Azusa? Where was Spirit? Had they given up on her calls? Did they think it was a false alarm? Had she said it was Stein too many times for them to believe her this time?

 

Then she understood.

 

_“Don’t be the one to cry wolf.”_

 

How did she not realize it, before? Maybe the outfit had put her off, but the sheep, the village, seeing Stein and then not seeing him.

 

That was the story they were in.

 

But that didn’t explain why he was acting the way he was. Marie rolled to the side, her skirt flipping up as she dove when Stein threw himself at her again.

 

His stance was sloppy. It wasn’t even like he was under the control of someone else. It was as though he was an entirely different person.

 

“Stop! Stein! It’s me! It’s Marie!” she screeched out, rolling to the opposite side when he kicked toward her again, his hands outstretched.

 

He had longer claws, this time. And she knew he didn’t have them before. Why now? Why this fairy tale? He had been himself every other time.

 

When she hears his voice, she almost can’t believe it. She doesn’t want to believe it’s him.

 

And then, she realizes that it isn’t coming from who was in front of her, who was attacking her, but behind her.

 

“Marie!” he calls out, and she doesn’t even have the time to turn around before she feels claws sink into her side, staining her pink dress crimson as blood gushes from her and she yelped, throwing her staff in the quickly morphing Stein’s face.

 

He is a caricature of himself. His lips are stretched over his teeth, his back hunching. He looks feral.

 

He isn’t Stein.

 

“Marie!” his voice says, again, and then she feels herself getting hauled up as someone runs in front of her and shoves the stretched out character away. Marie’s hands are instantly clutching onto whoever had come to her aid, and she feels comfortable and safe.

 

When she looks up, Stein’s face is as she remembers it, and she teeters on her heels, leaning upon him.

 

“Stein?” she asks, and when she brings herself closer to him, he smells familiar, and his arm comes around her as though to eclipse her from the world. “Where the hell were you-“

 

She hears a sharp laughter before there’s a harsh “oof” in her ears and she lifts her head suddenly, looking around and seeing Spirit hit the earth, struggling up with Azusa running toward the quickly transforming creature that Marie once thought was Stein. Marie gasps, squirming in her boyfriend’s hold and reaching her arm out.

 

“’Zusa!” she calls, but Azusa has already whirled around, looking furious and deadly when she dropped close to the ground and tripped the creature coming at her.

 

A wolf.

 

The witch. It was the damn witch. That had been the voice that she had heard layered atop another’s, and as the half-transformed creature finally started taking on the characteristics of Luna, the cackling started up. Azusa stood up, taking a step back and rushing over to Spirit’s side, slapping him across the face a few times as though to wake him from his stupor.

 

Marie wasn’t fast enough to scream her warning before Azusa’s shirt in the back was slashed open and the woman went sprawling. Stein let go of Marie immediately, having noticed that the blood on her side had started clotting due to her natural healing influence, and the two of them started running over to their friends, though Marie stumbled as she rushed forward. Her world swam in front of her eye, and she fell to the ground.

 

And then the wolf was upon her.

 

She shrieked, the witch catching both of her shoulders and knocking the wind clean out of her, raising her paw and slashing at Marie’s chest. The weight was off of her almost immediately afterward, Stein having come forward, grasping the witch by her very skin and throwing her to the side, coming over Marie. His hands came to the blood pooling at her chest, trying to clean some of the gore away.

 

When she looked over his shoulder, she saw the witch coming for them again.

 

Damnit, she’d had enough.

 

Her stomach churned when she flipped Stein onto his back, helping him evade the attack that had been coming right for his neck. Her chest was aching, her body protesting every action. But the witch stumbled, not having expected her victim to dodge, and Marie took the time to grab her up by the ankle, her grip like a vice as she mustered everything inside of her and whirled the witch’s body around.

 

It was times like then that everyone understood why Marie was called the Pulverizer. Because when she threw the witch, she went flying high into the sky and just kept going.

 

Weapon transformation or no, Marie’s sheer physical strength was nothing to mess with, and as the witch went sailing, Luna’s scream getting softer and softer as more distance was put between them, she went into the very clouds.

 

And then everything simply shattered. The witch’s body collided with the threshold of her magic and broke everything apart.

 

Marie was panting, hard as the world deconstructed around her.

 

She thinks the book was screaming. Or it could just be the witch. Or the book could have been the witch and the witch could have been the book. But the spell had been broken, and instead of tumbling, they watched as everything dissolved around them and the cavern that they had originally stumbled into came into view in front of them.

 

Marie felt her knees give out, falling against Stein once more and clutching at his lab-coat to find some kind of leverage. She felt bruised and tired, and all her wounds ached.

 

When she looked at her partner, she couldn’t help but wonder why Stein still had the wolf ears, why he still had the tail. Her face twitched into confusion and she wasn’t fast enough to help him evade the second attack.

 

The witch must have been more resilient than she would let on, because she all but tackled them into the wall and despite the fact that Stein turned on a dime, eclipsing Marie’s form with his own before they slammed against each other, Marie still ended up hitting her head so hard she saw stars bloom across her vision.

* * *

 

He felt like he was just tenderized but when Marie slumped in his arms, the panic welled up in him faster than the pain could block it out, and he crumpled to the ground with her still in his arms. He groaned, shaking his head and trying to clear out his mind.

 

He regained clarity just fast enough to realize that Azusa had saved his life, because the witch’s annoyed yelp bounced around his head and he looked up to see the Azusa half-transformed once more with the barrel of her gun smoking and hell in her eyes. Next to her, Spirit was clutching his side, glaring and supporting himself against Azusa.

 

For one, the woman didn’t look like she was ready to murder him for touching her, and instead, she only fired another shot, hitting the witch on the leg and forcing her to the ground.

 

The witch had fallen against the floor with the force of the shot, having been on a clear line to Stein once again.

 

“Stein!” Azusa barked, charging up another hit. “The students! They’re in the room to the left!”

 

The witch snarled at that, struggling to get up only to get shot against the other calf, forcing her back down. Stein knew that Azusa was wearing herself out and that she couldn’t keep up such a fast pace for much longer, so he presumed she was trying to buy him time. He cradled Marie to his side and stumbled to the left, holding his partner with one arm as he kept himself upright with the other using the wall as support.

 

The fact that Azusa hadn’t realized when they were first in the cavern must have been because of the thick magic in the air, the magic that came from the book. After Marie shattered the entire thing, that field was forced down. He had to admit, it was a smart move to disguise herself as him. When he woke up behind some filthy barn at Marie’s screaming, he hadn’t even known what was going on. It was only luck that had him run into Spirit and Azusa on their way to see what had happened.

 

Regardless, he no longer had the headache that came about when he tried to activate his Soul Perception, and it seemed that, with Azusa able to at least partially transform, the fog that had been blocking all of their souls had finally lifted.

 

Marie mumbled against him, her hands slack.

 

She was just dead weight against him, but she’d always been small so it wasn’t difficult to keep her with him. Besides which, they watched each other’s backs, and if he left her behind, vulnerable and unable to help herself since she was knocked out, he didn’t know how he’d live with himself.

 

When he found the cell, the children looked like they’d been through hell and back. At first, they jumped back from the bars, and Stein was confused for a minute, his tail swishing before he realized that he still had wolf-like characteristics and that he was hauling around Marie, who was limp as a corpse.

 

And it was so damn dark, he probably just looked like a shadow.

 

The one time he had to look comforting and he was the farthest thing from such.

 

Then again, he hadn’t exactly been described as comforting by anyone else in the past, anyway. He rolled his eyes, readjusting Marie and finding it in himself to focus his wavelength enough to break the lock.

 

When his face was illuminated by the sparks he gave off, some of the children gasped.

 

“P-professor?” they asked, and he only slamed the door open so he could usher them out. “W-what about the w-w-witch?” they asked, huddling close to the walls.

 

“We’ll handle her,” he said, trying to coax the children out. At the promise of safety, they finally peeled themselves away from the corner where they had collected. And he popped his head into the cage-like structure to see if anyone was left, only to look at a small boy shaking hard enough to rattle his teeth.

 

“B-but the guard dog?” he said, his knees all but buckling.

 

“Dead,” Stein said simply, and Marie mumbled something as she stared coming back into clarity. “Get out of there. You need to run.”

 

For a moment, he contemplated having them take Marie with them, but he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of sending Marie with just students as protection. Besides which, teetering between consciousness and not, if she woke up and found that he had sent her from the battle, she’d be downright furious.

 

Her punches hurt.

 

He brought her closer to his side as he turned around, feeling the children’s soul put distance between them, running through the caverns back to the fight. Azusa’s shots hadn’t fired for a few moments and when he skid back into the main cavern, he barely avoided a blast aimed right at his head as Spirit was using a fully transformed Azusa as some sort of sniper rifle, positioning himself at the far end of the cavern and having gained some higher ground whilst doing so. Stein ducked to the side, jostling Marie.

 

“Stein?” she mumbled, her eye fluttering open, but the witch had already spotted them and decided that she could use them as a means of cover from Azusa’s weakened blasts. Spirit cursed as the witch brought herself close to Stein, trying to knocking him back into the wall so she could use him as a meat shield, and he didn’t have enough time to prepare his Soul Purge to max power.

 

Regardless, he got the witch right on her diaphragm, somehow speedier thanks to the wolf-like residue he had been bestowed, and the witch frowned furiously as Stein sent her back a few feet, running toward where Spirit and Azusa were. He could feel the magic draining from him, and he was certain that his ears were transforming right in front of everyone else’s eyes. He thinks he could feel that his tail was shorter, but he didn’t have the luxury of taking a moment to check.

 

 If he could just get to Spirit, he could use him as his weapon and end that poor excuse for a battle. Besides which, he had to get Marie out of the line of fire. She’d taken enough of a beating as it was and the last thing he wanted was for her to get even more bruised while they tried to end that damn fight. The wound on her chest and side was thankfully shallow, and she probably wouldn’t even need stitches.

 

“Stein!” Spirit called out, the final warning before Stein dropped to the ground to avoid the witch’s tackle.

 

He rolled, finally managing to get a good look at the witch, but his movements were getting more sluggish as the magic seeped out of him. He almost winced when he looked at the state the woman was in. Her face looked demolished, blood leaking down her chest and massive chunks of her skin missing from where Azusa had hit her with her soul blasts.

 

How she was still alive, Stein had no idea.

 

How _he_ was still alive he had no idea, too.

 

He couldn’t get up, he didn’t have the speed with how fatigued he was, and the witch lunged at him, her nails elongating to try to stab at Marie. It seemed that his partner was who the witch was aiming for the most.

 

It must have been a vendetta.

 

There was a thrumming in the room and Stein felt Spirit’s soul resonate with Azusa’s, the two of them filling up the room with how much energy they were exuding. Stein caught on quickly, extending his own soul and lending them strength as he shielded Marie, rolling around with her on the floor just as she finally came into clarity.

 

“Stein-“ she started, only to feel the world whirl in front of her. “Whoa! What the hell-“

 

Stein barely got them out of the way of the witch’s nail jamming into Marie’s only good eye, widened in surprise and terror.

 

When Stein’s soul pushed against her own, she almost couldn’t resonate with him, since she was still so frazzled and disoriented, but he adjusted their wavelengths, and Spirit helped with his wavelength manipulation. Almost immediately, Marie felt that she was in a group resonance, and she ducked her face close to Stein’s shoulder as he curled around her, taking the stab against his arm and hissing.

 

Having taken the hit, he felt her claws lodge themselves into his flesh, and Marie, having all but read his mind, twisted in his hold, kicking out and demolishing the witch’s knees with how hard she collided against them. The woman fell back, screeching, but Stein yanked her back just in time for Marie to grab hold of her, shoving her off of her partner and effectively moving the nails out of his arm.

 

Creating an opening.

 

“Hey, witch bitch!” Spirit howled out the instant Azusa had finally charged up to full capacity, his grin taking over half of his face. “Ding dong!”

 

Marie whirled the woman around, kicking her forward once more at the dialogue so that Azusa could hit her full force. The witch screeched, skidding forward from the force of it until she found herself looking straight down Azusa’s barrel. 

 

“The witch is dead!” Spirit said, slamming down on Azusa’s trigger, catching the witch right in the face.

 

“Are you being serious-“ Stein started, but was drowned out by the witch’s furious wailing. He grasped Marie once more, bringing himself atop her to protect her from any rubble or stray energy that went flying, managing to hide her eye from the bright light, as well.

 

His ears were ringing, the loud yelling bouncing around the cavern until everything abruptly stopped, the silence almost choking. He counted to ten in his head before he lifted his arm from where he was keeping Marie down, and the two of them glanced up, left staring at the charred remains of the woman’s body.

 

It landed on the floor with a thump, her corpse smoldering and smoking, and behind them, from the altar, the book shuddered, slamming shut as her body disintegrated into nothing more than a molten looking soul. 

 

The room seemed to go dead almost in an instant. Azusa transformed, looking drained of all energy and all but fell to the ground. She had used so many shots in so little time, she thought she had lost half of her soul in the process. Marie’s costume was ripped, torn to shreds and covered in dirt and blood, and Spirit’s peasant outfit looked, somehow, even more shabby.

 

It was so. . .ridiculous.

 

Suddenly, Stein snorted.

 

“The witch is dead?” he asked, looking over and feeling the start of a grin come over his face. This time, his ears didn’t twitch, because the last of the wolf magic had disappeared when the witch died, and the silence had been broken, leaving Azusa to shake her head and Marie to giggle, all of them relieved that it was finally over. Spirit, tired and bruised, smiled at him and fell to the ground, landing on his back and sprawling his arms out as he allowed himself a break, breathing hard.

 

“Well,” he began, much to everyone else’s amusement, “I had a feeling there was a fairy tale motif I sort of had to stick to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sososoSO much for my excellent partners, ChaoticLivi and Soundofez who made some wonderful art for this silly fic! PleasepleasePLEASE check out their glory at http://chaoticlivi.tumblr.com and http://soundofez.tumblr.com/! Links to their art will be provided the instant I get them! Also, thanks go to my good friend p-audax who provided quite a few of these puns! Thank you to the mods for making this possible!
> 
> And thank _you_ for reading!!


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